Baby of Mine
by The REAL FanFic Contributor
Summary: England has had a lot of hardships in his past, a big one being his difficult and saddening relationship with America. As he takes a stroll through a lonely park, he beings to reminisce his times with America as he grew up and dealing with other people himself. England starts to realize how much he truly cares about America and what he is meant to be to him as his lullaby plays on.
1. Baby of Mine

Okay, first of all, even though this is my first Hetalia fanfiction to submit, this is not the first Hetalia story I wrote for the site. I was earlier on working on a Hetalia mini series that was set to be released Thanksgiving weekend then picked back up on the start of the new year. However, I was having some difficulties completing it and with the fact that the new season is going to start around the end of January, I decided to release the story at the start of January. As for this story, I've actually written this story before for a school assignment, but now I'm going to submit it here, changing it up a bit by dividing it into three chapters/three phases. Just so you know, this story is also around the topic of the Disney song, Baby Mine. Well, that's that for now. **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any circumstance, but that hardly matters now! Hetalia for the win!**

* * *

Baby of Mine

_"Baby Mine... don't you cry. Baby mine... dry your eyes"_

* * *

England's feet felt heavy with every step he took under the shadows of pine trees, an also unmistakable pit of hollowness welling up inside of him the farther he escaped life around him. England had had enough trouble in that single day, having to deal with more demands from his boss, unprofessional meetings from his air-headed and mostly peculiar Allies, and he grunted as he could tell a minor cold was sloshing in him. To put it simply, he needed to get away from it all, particularly from his teammates. They were teasing him again for his cooking, but they went farther by degrading the british man in general and being bruised up by France and America. Those idiots were the ones that got him the most, particularly since his relationship with them was rocky. England didn't like seeing it in the most vulnerable way, but whenever he had intense or ridiculous quarrels with those countries incorporated largely from his past, he felt like he would never be able to make peace with them. In a way, he liked how the system was, but in the past, he had secretly wanted to be France's friend and cherished America so much, as he was his charge. Now, things are just difficult with the two. So, England was taking a stroll through a secluded park to smooth things over, his secret hiding place being not too far where no nuisance could bother him. Despite the park being a labyrinth of tall hedges and shady spaces, England recognized the path well... It wasn't sad that he was all too familiar, he certainly didn't mind being lonely, but when confronted with times like those he went through, he sometimes wished for companionship.

England rounded a grassy brush corner and brightened up at the sight of his friendly, white painted bench, set off to the side for a view of swaying trees. He sauntered over and sat neatly, closing his eyes as the wind danced on his body. He also looked down, having a soft, starry-eyed watch as pebbles gathered and scattered by the wind's touch. It was all very nice, easy to distract, but he found that his mind continuously returned to the rudeness of his Allied members. _It meant nothing, _he noted to himself. The faces of France and America resurfaced in his head and he angrily shook it away. What care would he give for them now?!

England threw himself back on the bench to breathe. He started to notice when things calmed down the unnerving silence that his wonderful canopy delivered. He liked being alone sometimes, but this was not one of those times. He kind of wished in that moment for his magical friends, or as the other nations called them, his hallucinations to appear and comfort him, but it's not like some wave of a wand would summon them.

Suddenly, England recalled his ipod in his pocket and made no haste to take it out. He shoved in his earbuds and scrolled through the selection of songs. Nothing in particular was catching his eye, so eventually, he resorted to shuffling the system. First song that popped up was titled, "Baby Mine". The gentleman blushed mildly, bashfully swishing his head around incase anyone glimpsed that (ludicrous, though. He knew he was alone). _I forgot I still had this song on here, _nevertheless, he lowered his eyelids gingerly at the title. It was a precious song, one that his mum sung to him once or twice when he was a little child. One that he held near and dear to his heart ever since she passed away. _I even adopted it as a lullaby for myself, _he thought, feeling a bit silly. _I remember we... I remember using that song once... for America. _All of a sudden, England was blasted with nostalgia and wanted to go back to that time when he raised America. Back in that time, America was his life, the light of his eyes (_France wasn't that important. He was still a jerk then_). _Aw, America..._

* * *

Little Baby America's eyes widened in awake just as England set down his half-drinken cup of tea on a night stand, next to a room temperature bottle of milk. England almost felt a bit of annoyance as the little baby stared up at him with glimmering eyes. It was already 12:00 in the morning. He had been expecting the child to fall asleep by then! It was like no matter what England did, America had to observe.

The small child ruffled his balled hands through his hair tiredly, producing a sigh and smile from his watchful guardian. His fascinating and refreshing companionship sure made up for it, though. In that moment, it was around England's first day of taking care of America. He had arranged a neat little room for the young country to sleep in, complete with a blanketed crib and even a couple of stories to be read to. America loved the room instantly, and England loved being in the room with him. The gentleman could still hardly believe he won custody over America. The idea seemed unimaginable, especially since it all depended on how the tyke would view him. As seen now, America and England were going to live a nice life together.

England reclined back in his wooden rocking chair, taking in the enticing dimness of the room. At times, England would question if he could actually do the parenting. He knew the negative thought shouldn't loom over him, but France highlights the truth. The frenchman robbed England of his money and some parts of his land, so it was hard to bring a new life in being barely able to manage his own. Plus, France kept putting England down with his communicating past. It made him feel like he wouldn't be able to raise America, properly that is, but as he looked at the wide-eyed baby now, a peaceful feeling of reassurance blossomed in him.

America clapped his hands together lightly, snapping England from his thoughts, and demanded for some type of entertainment. England was extremely tired himself, but he complied to the child's want and pulled out a miniature stringed instrument from a drawer and began to strum a light rendition of Phantom of the Opera (as he knew that was America's favorite piece to listen to by England). America smiled and swayed with the song, surely feeling sleepy. England smirked as he thought he almost had a parenting skill down, but cracked a smile and giggle once and a while at the child's adorableness. Just as England neared the end of the song, America bobbed his little head slowly until he rested with a slow take of breath. That was England's cue to leave, so he carefully placed the instrument back and quietly tip-toed out of the room.

All of a sudden, America flickered open his eyelids and started to cry aloud. England hitched in his tracks and looked back at the kid. He was sitting in the middle of the room, his body rattling with cries and his tiny fists trying to rub away the tears. England instantly went on panic mode, as he was completely clueless. This was one of his first nights with a baby, so he was a little fuzzy with every aspect of taking care of one. However, England did mildly understand the logic of crying. England would constantly try to meet America's expectations, so when he cried, he would make sure to give him a drink, put him to rest, feed him (which he cried for... a lot), change him, and plainly nurture him. England filed through his mind of the things he did with America, bemused as he checked everything off. _If he doesn't need to eat, or burp, or anything, then why is he crying?!_

England fully turned around to examine America. His crying had grown louder, almost to the point of screaming, but he didn't adopt a tone of demanding. His baptismal robe draped around his frail body, his arms thrashed for his face, and his eyebrows arched in a downward curve of... England's eyes slowly grew wider, his child's cry being the only thing ringing in his thoughts. America was crying... because he was sad. Actually sad. England had never heard a cry like his, one that displayed true emotion. He almost broke down himself, but how could he? He dropped his shoulders as if it was his fault, but then started wondering why the small colony was upset in the first place. It didn't take agonizingly long for things to click. That night was going to be the last night England would see America for a long while. He had made deals with other countries to watch over America, since he needed to build back up into a powerful nation. America must have heard of the troubling news and carried the burden around like a favorite blanket (being as he is so smart).

So, there England stood now, his throat throbbing for a cry as America appeared more and more distressed. "No, America, don't worry, it's not-" the baby squinted through his tears, but could only imagine not seeing his guardian figure taking care of him. England rushed closer, but could only gaze at him in helpless confusion after attempting different methods of negotiation (_I suppose he's not _that_ smart...) _and getting only wails and rubbing eyes. _What do I do? _He had no one to contact in the late hours- not to forget it may also risk him of losing the potential power- and no idea what to act on. He was truly on his own.

"America," all of a sudden, England's lullaby popped into his head. His sweet one from his mother that briefly brought moments of his past. Even though he hadn't heard the song in so, so long, it remarkably played faintly in his head. He had never practiced the song aloud and he didn't really know if it would help, but he bit his lip to trap hesitation back. He blinked away tears as he dipped down to his knees, inches from America. Slowly and gingerly, he leaned down with a light breath to America's fleshy, pink-tinted nose, eventually brushing his hair to the breaking child's forehead, and sang softly, "Baby mine... don't you cry. Baby mine... dry your eyes."

The tiny colony slowed his fierce crying to an unsteady breathing, blinking through his bleary eyes, but keeping a saddened face. England felt doleful looking into his watery-stained eyes. A child as young as he should never experience an extreme change such as this. It did, however, reveal the painful truth that the two would have to endure from now on when they would have to part ways. It was sorrowful, but one that shouldn't have come across a child who has possibly never had a guardian to love until now.

England waited a moment for the lyric to soak in, for the two of them to ease down in reality, before he scooped America in his arms and cradled him to his vested chest. "Rest your head, close to my heart, never to part... baby of mine," the lyrics escaped like a breath and America gradually ceased his crying. He blinked up at England and he chuckled softly, resuming his singing. His little lips tugged a smile finally and he yawned, nestling his head deeper into England's sweater vest.

His mother's song drifted to a whisper from his lips when he forgot the rest of the words, and he simply cradled America to sleep. This time, England waited longer, steadying his rocking to be sure America was asleep. He observed as his little stomach rose up and down and light breathing escaped his parted lips. England smiled. All... was good. _Maybe I can parent the kid... look what I've done here. I had no idea what to do, yet I have prevailed. _The more England looked down at America, the more conflicting thoughts popped in his head. He wanted to believe everything would be fine from there, but the nagging thoughts of criticism would always come back to bite him. Other countries had bullied him for the way he acted, particularly due to his background, like how could he prove to raise another?!

As England silently rose to his feet and carefully minded America's head as he set him down in his crib, he crept to the door, leaning on the frame to think. _Tonight, America just proved why I can take care of him. He showed me he loved me, and I was able to put him to peace. Sure I may not have everything a baby would need to live a substantial life, but if I have so far cared for America greatly to the point of love... then I must be doing something right. No bother to listen to the naysayers, and although we may part for now, we both remember because of my mother's lullaby that no matter what comes between us, we will always have one another. _The thought seemed bewildering to England, like it was it didn't make sense, shrouded in the future. In his defense, he was incredibly tired and he did feel conflicted about the whole night, but he did feel a warm smile bloom, a feeling of goodness saying all would be okay for the two.

He still received trouble then on.

* * *

_"Rest your head, close to my heart, never to part... baby of mine."_

* * *

_Okay that's the end of the first chapter! Did you like it!? Sorry if it seemed kind of confusing in the end, I have very jumbled up and unsure feelings about this particular story (since it's filled and will be filled with a lot of emotions). My mind was scattering all over the place because I added France's part of bothering England, as he will show up later. France and America do come in and out in this story, but what you need to understand is, this story mostly revolves around England and America's relationship with one another and how it used to be and why it's tough. Sorry if I can't properly portray that, I tried my best (I think it did enough...). That's all for now. Next chapter will be up soon and please review if you would like._


	2. Child of Mine

_Welcome back to the next phase of this enthralling story! Here, a few years have passed and America is a young child, still happily with England, but what is there to come in this one faithful memory when America plays at a park? You'll just have to read and find out!_

_(Story long over-due, apologies [mostly to me]!)_

**Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me, nor does the Disney song "Baby Mine". I _did_ feel that these two themes matched each other well for this very special moment (for a very special reason). :)**

* * *

Baby of Mine

_"Little one, when you play... don't you mind what they say."_

* * *

England opened his eyes slowly, feeling numb to any element as he came back to reality. He was still sitting in his secure white-painted bench as he recalled. He had slunk a little to the side in deep thought and his iPod was slipping from his fingers. He shook his head mildly and sat up straight.

"Ha, I must have dozed off a bit," he chuckled to himself, surprised as he finished, found himself sniffling and wiping a dry eye. He remembered that time he had with America, when he was a mere baby depending on him and loving him. England never thought his mother's song would come in handy, but was glad he had made a moment connect between the two. He rested back, trying to keep awake, but his mind scattered with remembrance of America's youth. _That was such a nice day. _Then his mind traveled to moments ago, when America was being crude and sarcastic towards him. _The twit has certainly changed, that's for sure... I recall those times... when he needed me and respected me. Where did the time go?_

"What happened to those times when we used to get along?" He wondered aloud, leaning forward to gaze over the scenery. The wind danced enchantingly through the leaves of the evergreen trees and the sun was being exceptional; Only providing light instead of pesky and uncomfortable heat. Then, England remembered again. The atmosphere experienced now brought him back to another time in his pleasant past, one that instantly escaped him into his memory and left him running his thumb over the play button on his iPod.

* * *

It was a crisp clean day outside in the local forest as England- and even young America- observed. They were walking down a winding dirt road path when they decided to stop by a neat little park by a cluster of usually homey houses. America was skipping over the dusty road playfully, walking side-by-side with England too, so trying to stay neat in his jumping as to not set the elder brother off. However, England watched America through mere glances with interest. It was refreshing and enjoyable to have the lively spirit just inches from him, wanting to be near him and share his energy. England looked up to the sky, examining the blue, peering his eyes through the trees to find flashes of the sun, and looking over again. The day was definitely nice and cool, but something about having America around improved his outlook on the day.

It had already been years and years since America was a baby. England was at first afraid that the time would slip away once America would turn into a rambunctious child and stress would creep over him. Much to his surprise and jubilation, the way America acted now was very calm and gentlemen like. The way he walked with poise when he was energetic, how he tried to remember his manners at the dinner table (which started to fly over England's head as he was more ecstatic with the fact that America liked his cooking), and how England would sometimes be working late at night on important taxing to suddenly find young America dragging his favorite blanket behind him with weary eyes, just hoping to be by his side.

Yes, those were all good traits and times, but possibly the moment he can't forget was when he soothed the child with his lullaby. He already admitted it was cliche, but it really showed the nice, impending bond the two could share for the other. The one that England felt would carry them for the rest of their lives.

"Hey, hey England, are we there yet!?" America suddenly chimed, quickly trying to compose himself under his brother's gaze.

England blinked rapidly and looked down, almost cracking into a giggle, "don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to play. You deserve to go outside, it can help you familiarize with surroundings once you start shaping into a wondrous country."

It was a very modern answer, but America had wit to see what he was going with. America turned his gaze back before him and gasped into a smile at the sight of the park. Yeah, kids do love parks, but England has never really had the time to take America out to one, and all the other parks the other guardians took him to are just not fun and don't hold the same vibe that his real brother delivers. That ancient little park to the two was just dazzling in that little moment as it brought back bits and pieces of memories from the little past they played there together, and America could contain himself no longer and hopped over there.

England almost attempted to stop America, but the kid was doing no harm, plus, he couldn't deny a sudden urge to join along the fun. He remembered playing in that park when he was a small boy, so why not? He steadied his pace to watch America climb through the playground, slide down the slide, and gradually teach himself to swing on the swing set (smart kid, he is!) England circled around the park casually, taking in the scenery while also trying to keep a close watch of the sprightly kid, then stopped when he noticed a sandbox in his way. Those were one of his favorite things from a playground, since it allowed him to create things almost against the law of gravity (at least it seemed that way when he was young.) and even encouraged him to pursue more magic.

Without making sure no one was around, as he was in his happiest state to not think, he climbed into the sandbox. Slowly and almost timidly, he bathed his hands in the cool sand, grabbing clumps and watching through hazy eyes as he carefully spilled the grains back. Eventually, he started shaping some sand into whatever childish thing came to mind, slowly imagining the magic he could conjure on it.

Because he was so wrapped up in his memories, he couldn't remember to hear America playing around, or for when the young one got of his swing set and strolled over to his brother out of curiosity. He watched with glittering eyes at his brother's swift skill and decided to try it himself. He walked around the opposite side and gently jumped in.

That's when England sort of lost it. He jumped in his seat, toppling the sand creation down and feeling as if exposed. "AHHH, America! What are you doing here, I thought you were playing in the... haha," he mumbled, shaking his head and sweating. It had been a while- a **long **while- since England let loose like his early years, so you couldn't honestly blame him for clamming up.

America giggled playfully, "sorry, I just wanted to see what you were doing. It looks fun!"

England stared at his bright, smiling face, then relaxed his shoulders and gazed warmly at his brother. "Well, alright, the trick is to pull as much sand together and pact it in to make it sturdy, as so you can build things. I mean, I myself sometimes like to create mini spells after carving magic marks into the sand, but you're too young for that kind of stuff!"

England rambled on gleefully, demonstrating a bit, and even so, America still listened with gleaming eyes. Eventually, the two started practicing their sand building skills, England being a natural while America struggled a little to mesh the sand right. England would chuckle heartily at the child and would help pat down the sand. Eventually, after much sand castle collapsing and even a bit of sand splashing tomfoolery, America finally succeeded at building a mini sand castle with a small twig nearby as a flag. America smiled warmly up at England and he reciprocated it.

"Ohoho, I see silly little England is acting his age, non," England's shoulders hitched as he recognized the obnoxious laugh and bowed his head until another voice commented on the scene.

America blinked at his big brother. "Stay here," England murmured under his breath and slowly got up, patting the sand gently and then making his way to the two men. France grinned obnoxiously at grabbing his attention.

"Hello gentleman. France," he greeted curtly, but kept his tone low.

Neither France nor the other frenchman in his presence made any notice of distaste and France chuckled. "So, what are you doing here, _Angleterre_?"

He cringed and swallowed. The pompous prancy-France daring to call him by his French saying. He stiffened back up, "I was just taking young colony America here out for a day at the park. I'm sure you've never experienced true fun quite like this, friend."

"Oh-ho, you call 'zat fun? Anyway, England, I came o'ver to tell you the success I'm having with all my economy growing up, much unlike your crappy dead pit, no."

The other Frenchmen snickered and England's pose tightened. "What's the point in that? I already know. You're the bloody one who did it."

"Oui, I just love rubbing it in your face and seeing that miserable look," He smiled smugly with the other Frenchman.

"Is there any real point to you coming here?" The brit huffed and folded his arms bitterly.

France raised his bunched fist to his mouth elegantly, "well, I just figured you wouldn't actually be here, still actually caring for the colony. Oui, I figured you would have given up or better, lost the child to a'nother cooler nation."

"Oh please, I've heard this all before." So, so many times.

"Come on, when are you finally going to give him up, hopefully to the _trè bien moi_!"

Frustration was already catching up to the brit, "ughh, why must you keep pestering me about that, bloody blind fool!"

"Oh come on! You can't seriously believe the kid is going to stay with you forever. Just look at where you're at now. Poor and pathetic. You'd think he would have packed his belongings and came to me!"

England frowned crossly and turned away slightly. "He could clearly do so well with me, grow into my faithful colony, and perhaps we'd 'ave a fling after we laugh at your sorry, defeated tush," France finished, smiling wildly.

England was having enough with France's naysaying and attempted to drown him out until he could think of something to fire back with. _Oh how he continuely brings up America departing from me. That would never happen, he depends on me and I care for him... America will grow big and strong along side me... not against me... _The Englishman spun to France when his words were getting to him. "Frog."

France yelped. "Eeehhhhhh! Quit calling me that, you eyebrows punk!"

England glared at France and the tension hardened around them, and as they grumbled insults and hatred to one anothers' way, young America hardly noticed as he was greatly fixated on his sand castle he was creating (it was also his choice to not listen in). He pat up the sand as it formed to a top, and suddenly it broke down and sand exploded to his face. He pushed himself back with worry rattling and examined upward. Three french boys had entered the sand box, one had completely demolished his sand creation in fascinatingly high-fasioned shoes (he had to make a point of, compared to his mini, common brown loafers).

"Oh, was that your pile of sand? _Désolé_," the boy half bowed feminine like and dropped down to the sand, a smirk stretched on his face with the other kids muffling snickers. America hadn't caught the last word the kid said, but he automatically didn't like the atmosphere's feeling and kept slightly wary of the other kids. They were off constructing their own sand castles, so America carefully started again, but the kids had to have a conversation again.

"So, your the new British colony, huh?"

America shifted his gaze in their direction, already a bit annoyed. "Yeah," his little accent evident, "neat I suppose."

"Neat! There's nothing neat about being a country, especially one under a _imbécile _country," the main french boy snickered back to his friends, "_quelle canard!_"

America was getting peeved. Despite not understanding some of their words, their tone was grinding on his insides and he was about to lose it. "Don't talk about brother England like that. He's a powerful nation, he could take over more of France if he could!"

The Frenchboys' eyes widened and America thought he had them, but then they mocked an obnoxious laugh. "Oh, silly boy, don't you know?! Your big brother is broke because of our wonderful France. He must 'ave you brainwashed, which wouldn't be a surprise-"

Another boy spoke up from behind, too excitedly saying, "he would say as many lies in or'der to get his colonies to follow him. It is not like 'e cares or anything!"

"Wha-" America stared at them. Now they were being senseless and rude like England told him... would listening intently and believing everything his brother told be actual a bad thing. He believes he has heard stories of deceiving countries, but was England one of them? Thinking back, England did seem to be in somewhat of a rut, always exclaiming in a breath how much he detests France. That must be true then... then? America glared to the sand pit, "no, why would England do that. You tadpole kids! Back off! England and I will show you."

They weren't even listening anymore, as if they hadn't had the conversation with him in the first place. He stopped in confusion and looked back at his elder. He appeared in a small fight with the French country. What could they be talking about? Now America was feeling a bit paranoid. He was getting a bad feeling.

England was fidgeting, his temper rising to his cheeks until they burned and he wanted to strike back at the Frenchman who was continuing to go on with why Great Britain and the culture sucked so much (mostly compared to him). _Why is he even here? He's only borring the bane of my existence, that flouncy frog_. England shuffled angrily on the spot and it seemed like France had no company, pleasing himself about horrible things about England. He had enough (he certainly couldn't be in a little argument without participating in it). "Listen here you barmy, _fantaisie _git!"

"England?!"

The Britishman chocked on his words. A startled voice froze him. America, without waiting for him to say anything else, walked over to England's side. He looked a little frightened by his tone. "What's?..."

"America, it's not-"

"Aww, America, so nice to meet you again!" France beamed and bent down to his knees. England quickly didn't like the shift in atmosphere. Perhaps France, in his thoughts, could retry winning the colony over again and have another reason to make fun of the grumpy Brit.

America gulped, "uh-h, hello again Mr. France."

France had to frown slightly. The kid already had a tiny accent, lovely. He beamed again to keep his plot. "You still look so cute and bright, although not too healthy looking. Has bad friend England been feeding you his crap food as a living?"

"Shut up!" England jumped and America turned to him.

England noticed America looking at him and fixed his ridged figure. "Uh... America..."

The new colony cleared his voice to emanate a grown up response, as it was now stuck in his mind, "England, I was hoping if I could ask you about something... very important."

"Ah, you wanted to tell him you want to live with me now, yes, non?!" France immediately butted in, now subtly huffing.

America stared worriedly, "umm-"

"That's enough now France, leave America alone. There will be no way of you taking him," America looked up at England defending him. His moment of truth. He wasn't sounding deceitful or cruel, but kind and serious. He grinned openly in awe at him. "Though you robbed me of important things, you know more than very well that you will never have him."

No response came as France stared at the two, shocked but evidently repulsed. The frenchman who accompanied him looked stunned and done, and even the kids from the distance looked up sourly. "Wow," France murmured, eventually straitening upward and his expression melting off. His face quickly contorted with a grin. "Still so foolish and child-like..."

He turned back and began walking off, "be on your way, _mon ami._ It is done. _E'fcourse for now, hohon._"

They walked off from the scene and regardless to the slightly different touch of conversation, England still huffed uncomfortably and angrily, but gradually looked down at the colony. He had been staring in the direction they went off in until they completely disappeared. England sighed heavily.

He offered his hand out. "Come on America. We've had our time at the park."

America nodded without anything else and took his brother's hand as they retained peace to stroll back down the path they came. America couldn't help but turn a little of his gaze to the sand box where the french kids no longer were at. Still, he had to ask.

"England..." the other murmured for allowance to go on and America sighed half-heartedly. "When you found me out in the fields, you cared, didn't you?"

_Oh, such a long time ago, _England remembered thinking nostalgically. He had to think again about this, "why yes of course, America... I couldn't have left you out there for stupid, ugly France to catch you. I knew you needed a real guardian to take care of you, because you have so much potential ahead."

America smiled wistfully, still believing, "really?"

England thought once more. America would grow up to be remarkable in all things to help take over the continents together, as bonded brothers. "Truly. Don't forget that America. You will become a great country, no matter what others are saying about anything in your path, just keep going on. Never give up."

The gentleman gazed back up without waiting for a reply, then suddenly chuckled, blushing. "Oh, sorry, I must've of sounded silly. It was just a day of France for me being, erm-"

"No, it's okay England," America interrupted, beaming sweetly. He squeezed his hand slightly, "it was just the right thing to say."

Now America could fully smile, relieved and relaxed. His brother wouldn't betray him. He had immense faith in him, and why would he have a reason to not follow his faithful brother anymore. He knew he was in the right place. England on the other hand was thinking about the quick question. He also felt the same way and honestly believed in his little brother. What a day they had, proving one another and rubbing it in in dumb France's face. What a trusting bond he knew they'd keep for centuries to come.

England closed his eyes to the pale sunlight and cool wind, feeling himself slowly coming back in a fluff of warmth. He recalled the time, but he knows better than believing all good things could come true. He was shifting in reality and dreams as his music faded in and out of his mind vividly. There was only that one other time where bonds broke and things went truly wrong. He wasn't sure if he dreamt it or if it slipped out of his lips in real life, but England curled up on the bench seat and heard from his hurting voice, "America... why? Why did you have to leave me?"

* * *

_"Let those eyes, sparkle and shine. Never a tear, baby of mine~"_

* * *

_Finally an end to another chapter. Update took FOREVER and I'm really upset about that. I should've done a better job, especially being in the summer, but I was so lazy. Being that of the 4th of July, I found it increasingly convenient to write and publish the second chapter finally (too bad I was a little too late. :(). Well, it was a decent enough of a build up and I am proud to have brought myself to continue on. I will end with a final chapter which will probably come out in another **long **wait. I clearly need the time to think more, though, so until then.~_

_Also, sorry for any mistakes in the French. I wouldn't be surprised, but I would be greatly upset with myself. Please review and other nice stuff, haha, please. \:)_


End file.
